Home
The Prophecy of Anthelios
From the Prophecies of the Dunyain.
Quatrains 468 - 474
In Man’s final age, Anthelios will rise.
In the Whore’s Throne, the Rabid King will proclaim for Darkness.
Rains will fall, realms will sunder, mountains and walls will crumble.
The pact, devised in terror, enacted in rage, sworn in blood, will bind all.
The City of the Spire, beset by all, spews filth and vitriol.
Justice for the Gods! the cry from without.
Mercy from the Just! the cry from within.
The Stranger’s Sons sit high in the saddle.
From all the lands, a Knight of the Knight consigns his squires.
The last redoubt, rotten to the core, admits only those who smell of filth.
The Vizier’s depradations leave none to man the walls.
The Hydra, unleashed, escapes to the wilds.
The Angels, Azure and Jade, bestow their only remaining mercy.
Leaving spite for the world that remains.
His scepter fallen, his crown arises to leaven his master’s forge.
A spark of madness, grown to engulf the world.
The Night of Rebirth will never again end.
The countenance of madness, ruddy with anticipation
Bloated with fecundity, refuses to sleep.
His bloody get shines in his wake, never far from father’s side
The Saviors of the Spire, mounters of heaven, will gather anew.
The Angel Jade, slain by a Noble Champion.
Her last days spent setting the Path of the Destined.
The Angel Azure, lost to madness, knows not of good, nor ill.
